


Mike Wheeler and the Shittiest Summer of All Time

by WarpzoneKid



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Body Horror, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Established Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, F/M, Horror, M/M, Mike goes to derry, Post-IT (2017), Post-Stranger Things 2, Pre-Stranger Things 3, RICHIE HAS GOOD PARENTS YALL, Richie Tozier and Mike Wheeler Are Cousins, Stephen King References, The Losers Club (IT) Has Powers, The Shining References, There's A Tag For That, like actually gory, some illustrations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpzoneKid/pseuds/WarpzoneKid
Summary: The summer of 1987 takes a turn for the worst when Mike's family decide that a month in the good ol' Derry air will do him some good. Unfortunately, inter-dimensional threats, super powers, and turtle gods (?) don't tend to care about if you have a good summer or not.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair
Comments: 23
Kudos: 177





	1. Breathe in that Derry Air, Mike

**_INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA: May 31 1987, 7:27 AM_ **

Mike Wheeler was pissed. Beyond pissed! Livid! Nothing about his current situation was fair! The situation as it stood? He was waiting at the bus station for a greyhound.

This greyhound that he had to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn (5:30) to be driven to by his family. This greyhound that would take him to Buffalo where he would be dropped off and get on a new bus to Boston, where he would take a third bus to Portland, Maine where he would be picked up by his uncle (whom he hadn’t even seen in 9 years) to be driven, by car, to his house in the middle of nowhere.

His house where he would be staying for a  _ whole month _ . A whole month away from his friends and away from El. This was the first month of summer, too! 36 weeks of saving up as many quarters as he could with the party so they could spend as much time on the soon to be newly unveiled games at the arcade as possible, for nothing! All of the movies coming out this month, he wouldn’t be able to see with his friends. His first few breaths of summer freedom and he wouldn’t even be in his home state.

And the reason for his practical kidnapping? His mother said he needed to ‘get away from it all for a little while’. According to her, Hawkins was becoming a restricting environment for him. His grades were slipping, he was refusing to spend time with people outside of the Party, and more so was spending an unhealthy amount of time at his new girlfriend’s house, but most troubling of all he had been having bigger outbursts than was usual for him anytime his parents started asking questions; this, in combination with the startling increase of disappearances and deaths in the town, was plenty of reason in her eyes to send him to spend a quarter of his summer at her brother’s house in Maine.

Mike couldn’t recall much of his uncle Wentworth. From his own memory he could remember a tall man who shared his dark curls and sported a thick mustache and told a few bad jokes. He knew from his mother that he left Indiana to be a dentist (which Gram and Gramps loved), married a jewish woman named Margaret (Which Gram and Gramps were a little less than jazzed about, hence his absence from most family functions); and also had a son his age, an aspect of his little vacation that his mother was desperately trying to play up. 

“Oh I just know that you and Richard are going to get along great!” Karen gushed. “Went says that he’s very smart, just like you. Top of his class! And he also likes all of that videos game stuff you and your little friends like to play around with! Speaking of friends, Went says that Richard has a  _ big _ group of friends that he likes to hang out with. I’m sure that he’d be willing to introduce y-”

“Yeah, Mom, I get it, Richard’s great!” He snapped. He was tired of hearing about Richard and he was tired of hearing about… what was it called? Dairy? His hope for the month was that he could sleep through it and what he couldn’t sleep through he would spend at the local arcade.

Karen pursed her lips as a canned voice announced that his bus was ready to be boarded. With a grunt, Michael stood up and took his overpacked suitcase in hand. She sighed and stood as well and placed a soft kiss 0n top of his head, to which he murmured something about being embarrassing and pulled away. She slightly frowned. “Please, Mike, promise me that you’ll at least make an effort to have a good summer. And be nice to your family. Maggie and Went and Richard are  _ so _ excited to have you come up to see them.”

Mike gave her a small, non-committal smile. “I’ll try.”

* * *

**_DERRY, MAINE: May 31, 12:32 PM_ **

Richie was not too particularly excited to have his cousin stay at his place for a whole month. So he was currently laying in the hammock of the Loser’s clubhouse, cuddling with Eddie whom he was sharing a comic book with, and bitching about it openly to the group.

“-and his name is Mike too! That’ll mess up our whole name flow! Plus I’ve got to share my room with him, too! Do you guys know how hard it’s gonna be to crank one out with compa-” He rambled to be met with a loud beep-beeping from the group and an elbow to the gut from his hammock companion. He wheezed and then continued his rant. “Apparently, the whole reason he’s even coming in the first place is because Aunt Karen got so sick of his bitching at home and we’re meant to be his home for wayward boys for a whole fucking month!”

“Ca-Can we have an e-exchange pr-program.” Bill joked, readjusting his shower card and slamming down a draw four card, causing Stan to scream in frustration as he picked up 16 cards, going off about how stacking was against the rules.

“You say that, but you guys would be lost without me! I add levity!” Richie defended himself. 

“Bet?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “What I really need you for is to  _ turn the fucking page already _ .”

“Oh I’ll turn  **something** alright” Richie growled jokingly and before Eddie could get the words out to tell him to stop or to ask what he meant, Richie reached across his torso to grab the other side of the hammock and take a hard tug, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Eddie landed on top of Richie, prompting the two into an impromptu wrestling match.

Beverly finally spoke up. “...Are we just going to ignore the fact that Richie even knows what the word levity even means?”

* * *

**_PORTLAND, MAINE: June 1, 9:55 AM_ **

Mike woke up as the bus jolted to a halt and the driver loudly announced to him all of the other passengers where the were. Mike rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he peeled himself off the sweaty-sticky pleather seat. He grabbed his heavy suitcase and with wobbly legs, and stepped out of the bus, squinting at the sudden appearance of the light of day. 27 hours and 25 minutes of buses had not been kind to him.

He looked around warily for his uncle Went, going off of only memories from when he was a child at Christmas of 1978. Finally he saw a man in his 40’s, standing above the crowd at a respectable 6’4. His hair was a little faded now, but Mike still remembered those kind blue eyes and thick mustache. The sign that he held aloth over his head that read “ **_MIKE WHEELER_ ** ” Like an airport chauffeur also helped his case. He broke through crowds of families to get to him with a loud “Wentworth?!”

Wentworth Tozier was not an easily shakeable man. But when his son appeared from the masses of people when he was sure he was still in Derry, he was downright rattled. “Son?” He asked.

“Well, nephew, but yeah.” The teen smiled… MIKE!

As he looked closer, he could see some differences. The most obvious was the lack of comically large glasses and eccentric fashion choices. Richie’s hair was curlier and longer. This kid had black eyes where as his own son had inherited his own blues, even if they were dark enough to be mistaken for black as well. Also, this kid’s voice was slightly deeper than Richie’s, as well as being perhaps an inch shorter. Other than that, this kid was more likely to be Richie’s twin than his cousin. He smiled, sure Richie would get a kick out of this. 

“Sorry Mike, it’s just… wow, you look so much like Richie. You two already have so much in common, on top of being twins, I’m sure you two will be like peas in a pod this summer.” Wentworth took Mike’s bags and hefted them over to his car as his nephew followed. 

“So I’ve heard.” Mike’s nostrils flared. He was getting really sick of his apparently perfect cousin and he hadn’t even met the guy yet. Mike mentally scolded himself as he loaded himself into Went’s truck. Surely Richie wouldn’t be that unpleasant to be around once they actually properly met.

* * *

**_DERRY, MAINE: JUNE 1, 10:00 AM_ **

Richie sat on Mike’s shoulders, grappling with Eddie, who was sat on Bill’s shoulders. The water of the quarry lapped at his ankles.

“You’re dead trashmouth! You can’t even lift a pillow with those noodle arms!” Eddie taunted.

“That's not what Joe said last night.” Richie smirked,causing Eddies face to go red.

“Who’s Joe?!” Eddie demanded, temporarily stunned in jealousy

“JOE DICK!” Richie shouted as he fucking decimated his boyfriend, using the moment of hesitation to slam both him and Bill.

Eddie resurfaced. “THAT WASN’T FAIR!” He yelled, still a little red but for a different reason now.

“All’s fair in love and war, Eds!” Richie declared from his perch. “I just employed the age old 10-indie technique.”

“What the hell is 10-indie?” Eddie questioned, regretting it when a wicked smile crossed Richie’s face.

“TEN INDIE IN YOUR ASS!” He cackled like a hyena in an quaaludes factory, earning him a scattered and mixed reaction ranging from similar cackling to a tired “Gross.”

Michael Hanlon is the only hero in this story as he jumped up and did what can only be called a rudimentary suplex with Richie on his shoulders.

* * *

**_DERRY, MAINE: JUNE 1, 12:10 PM_ **

Mike crumpled up the McDonald’s cheeseburger wrapper from the drive through they had gone through on the way to the Tozier household and place it in the brown paper bag it came from. He looked out the window as the Plymouth Fury rolled into a driveway. The house wasn’t as big as his own, the Toziers had only one child compared to the Wheeler’s three and reasonably needed less bedrooms, but it had an air about it of being a  _ nice _ house. The type of nice one could afford when one of the main providers ran the only dental practice for 17 miles in any direction. Went put the car in park and got out, gesturing to the house with a flourish. 

“Welcome to casa de Tozier!” Wentworth exclaimed and then he winked. “Mags is making a special lunch for you right now, so that little McDonald’s trip will be our little secret. Don’t worry though, if you’re anything like the rest of the men in our family, you have a metabolism like an Olympian until you turn 35 and then it all goes down hill.” 

“O...kay.” Mike drawled. If there was anything he was used to by now, it was keeping secrets.

“Run inside and greet your Aunt Maggy, I’ll get your bags out of the car.” Wentworth waved him off.

Mike accepted his dismissal and with all of the angst of a teen boy being forced to spend time with family and having to be polite about it, he stormed into the house. The first thing that hit him about the house was pairs of glasses everywhere. Glasses of different prescriptions, from readers to basically being classified as binoculars, and styles and sizes could be seen on several different surfaces. Like they were the kind of people who constantly needed their vision improved at a moments notice. The next thing he noticed was the lack of any sign that they even had a son. Mike had always been a homebody. He never had much reason to leave the safety of his house before he got a girlfriend. His house was the designated hangout spot for the party, his basement was where their dnd campaigns were held, and he had the Atari. His house, therefore, was covered in signs of his living there. Trophies on the mantel, character sheets left half finished on the coffee table, die lost in the couch cushions, plastic stormtroopers left in places where his dad would accidently step and the Wheeler kids, as well as their guests, would walk away knowing a new curse word. 

The only indication that a third person lived in this house from where he stood was a pair of dirty busted keds next to the front door. It was like Richard enjoyed spending time anywhere else but here, something else they had in common! 

The last little detail he noticed about the house was the absolutely  _ amazing _ smell coming from the kitchen. He followed the smell to the kitchen where a woman was checking the temperature of some kind of casserole. She heard the thud of shoes and glanced at him for a second before turning back to her casserole. In his quick look at her face, he could see that she had high cheekbones obscured by cheeks that had managed to hold onto their baby fat for 40 years and light brown eyes with concealer covered bags under them. She also wore thick horn-rimmed glasses on a chain around her neck and seemed to have a permanent crease between her brows.

“Richard Wentworth Tozier! I cannot believe that you went out with your friends all day after I told you that Michael was coming! I swear you hang out in those woods almost every day, would it kill you to spend one day with your family,  _ at home _ . What if Michael had gotten here and you weren’t there to greet him.” She scolded.

“Um sorry, Aunt Maggie.” Mike apologized in his cousin’s place. His cousin who was apparently *shudder* an  _ outdoors _ person. Mike didn’t even like to spend the five minutes in the woods it took for him to get from the street to Hopper’s cabin to see El.

Maggie whipped around and perched her glasses on her nose and gasped as her mother's instincts took over and she saw that this wasn’t her baby, “Mike! Oh, I’m sorry for yelling. I thought you were Richie! You two look so much alike. I would get out the photo albums but my hands are dirty. You’ll see it as soon as he gets home anyways. IF he ever comes home and doesn’t end up spending the night with Eddie again.” She rolled her eyes.

_“I’ve heard.”_ Mike grimaced.

“I really do hope you two get along this summer, me and Wentworth set up the camping cot in Richie’s room and it would stink if we had to move into the den because you two couldn’t share a space.” She half joked. “You can go wash up and get settled in, Mike. Lunch will be ready in ten.”

Mike was once again dismissed by a family member and wandered towards the room he would be sharing. Richie’s room held a few more personal artifacts. There was a large street fighter poster and a Weird Al Yankovic poster hanging over his bed. There was a couple of library-borrowed joke books on a desk next to a discarded walkman and a rather impressive cassette collection. On the bedside table was a giant stack of dog-eared comics, from Calvin and Hobbes to x-men. Sure enough there was a twin-sized cot pressed against the opposite wall to Richie’s full sized bed. On top of the cot, Went had laid his bags. He grabbed his toiletries and carried them to the bathroom a door over. He started putting his things into their proper places when an odd detail caught his eye. 

The toothbrush holder.

Inside it sat seven different toothbrushes of different colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and pink. The orange one was clearly the most used, followed closely by the red one. When Mike went to place his beige one alongside the others, he noticed another odd miniscule detail. Each toothbrush had a corresponding letter written on the handle in ultra fine tipped marker. At first Mike though that they possibly were for days of the week and maybe his cousin had some kind of neuroses that made him use a day of the week toothbrush, but the letters didn’t match up. E, R, BN, BL, S, M, and BV.

Mike felt like he didn’t have enough time to stare as he heard a door slam and a loud “MOM WHERE DO WE KEEP THE SUPER SOAKERS?” followed by the sound of Aunt Maggie chewing the voice out. Ah. Must be Richie. Mike went back to the kitchen to finally meet his cousin. Richie stood with his back to the door, His hair was wet and brushed his bare shoulders. He held his soaking wet shirt in one fist and and a pair of folded glasses in the other. His cargo shorts were the most dry thing about him. “So what? I forgot he was coming today! It’s not like I won’t be seeing the guy every day for the next month, anyways.”

Mike loudly cleared his throat behind him and Richie quickly snapped his glasses onto his face and spun on his heel to face him, arms almost raised in a defensive position. Mike was looking in a mirror with buddy holly glasses now. Neither said anything, just studying each other's feature in stunned silence. Finally Richie broke the silence.

“Well dang, no one told me I was finally gonna have competition for handsomest man in Derry.”


	2. Where in the world is Richie Tozier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: SLIGHT EMETOPHOBIA AND VERY MINOR GORE!

**_THE SEWERS; DERRY, MIANE: AUGUST 1, 1986_ **

Pennywise wasn’t sure quite what was happening. Billions of years. Millions of feedings and no one had  _ ever _ even come  _ close _ to defeating him before. He was the eater of worlds! The carnage he caused, the blood he shed, it had wrecked entire planes of existence off of the map. He would not be bested by children who were not even a measurable fraction of his age. Except he was. He had grown soft, hadn’t he? Complacent. Cocky. These children were not afraid. Not a morsel of fear. He was so... _ hungry. _ They were using his own powers against him somehow. They beat him with pipes and chains and bats and the bottom of their shoes.

The leader, Bill stepped forward and gave his monologue. Now was Its chance to escape! But he was entranced by them. Their glow…  _ no… their shine.  _ It was familiar… all too familiar.

Bill lifter his weapon over his head, ready to bring it down on the creature’s skull. As the pipe came down, Pennywise let out his final words.

“ _ Hehehe,  _ **_someone cheated_ ** .”

* * *

**_DERRY, MAINE ; JULY 1, 1987_ **

When Richie left for his house from the quarry to grab some water guns, Eddie was a little on edge. It had been just short of a year since they had killed It, and it still wasn’t easy for him to let his friends (especially his boyfriend; which was a phrase he was still ecstatic to say, even 6 months 2 weeks and 4 days after the fact. Yes, he counted  _ and _ kept track.) out of his sight for more than a few minutes. It was the same for the others too. Beverly was still having nightmares. Ben never wanted to take his shirt off around them anymore and Stan had started growing out his hair, Henry’s brand and Pennywise’s claw and teeth marks still lingered as physical reminders of painful memories. And Michael would fall back and gravitate to the nearest person (usually Stan or Bill) to try and make himself invisible whenever a car that looked similar Hocksetter’s old beater would drive near. 

It was dead! That was for sure. None of them could forget the smell of sulfur and grey-water as Bill brained It in the sewers, screaming in catharsis with his revenge. None of them could un-feel the feeling of the squishy heart being crushed in their fingers. None of them could avoid hearing about or seeing the sinkhole where he the Neibolt house once stood… Yet, none of them wanted to let the others be alone for too long… just in case. 

Eddie had wanted to go with Richie to get the super soakers. But Richie had assured him with a joke and a kiss on the forehead that he would be fine and that it was a 20 minute bike ride there and back. Eddie wanted to push but when he ran the request through his head, the voice sounded achingly like his mother. Eddie wanted a lot of things out of his relationship with Richie, but for it to become like him and his controlling mom was not one of them. So he relented and let him go.

Then 30 minutes passed. Eddie and the others tried to assure themselves that maybe Richie had exaggerated the amount of time it took him to make the round trip. Maybe he couldn’t find the water guns! Maybe he stopped in the kitchen and made a sandwich! Maybe he was having trouble fitting them all into the basket that he poached off of Michael’s bike. Surely he was okay.

Then 40 minutes had passed. They were worried now for sure. The sat on the cliff that was used as their diving board, legs dangling off the edge, discussing what to do.

“What if Carrington got him?” Eddie bit at his thumb nail, a habit that he had developed since the events of last summer. His mom hated it, telling it was a nasty habit; that he could get a hangnail, which one of his  _ dirty friends _ would use to infect him with AIDs like her friend from New York that Eddie was suspecting was fake; or he could accidentally swallow some dirt under his (pristine) nails and get the flu.

“Nah, Carrington and his goons don’t go near the woods or suburbs.” Ben assured pensively. Ever since Bowers was arrested for the murder of his father and the rest of the missing children, there was a power vacuum in Derry where an exaggerated 80’s movie villain should be. In came Lucas Carrington, who, while definitely not murderous, was still dangerous as Henry. His band of followers involved the surviving members of Henry’s gang, Peter Gordon from the football team, and interestingly enough Conner Bowers. Having a murdering cousin could only lead to hanging out with one of two crowds, Carrington’s or the Losers’, and Conner knew which choice to make.

The Losers were still Losers, even after that summer. After Eddie and Richie started dating, even though they told no one outside of their friends, not even their own family; for some reason the harassment grew worse after Conner saw the two playing Street Fighter together. They all knew to keep their heads ducked. The only reprieve they had was school, after it comes out that one of your students secretly had been murdering other students it's only natural that teachers would become a bit more observant towards bullying. But it was summer now.

“You guys don’t think It-” Mike started to say. Stan inhaled a sharp breath and Bill put a hand on his arm, reassuringly.

“It’s  _ dead _ .” Bill said sternly with his ‘leader voice’. “But we should still go check out if he’s ok. Even if he’s not in trouble, he may still need help.”

The group threw threw their clothes onto their still soaking wet bodies and hopped onto their bikes en route to Richie’s house. It was easy to find. It was always easy to find where they needed to go in Derry. They chalked it up to Derry being a small town and never questioned it as anything more.

They rolled up to the familiar red siding. Despite it being a Monday, Mr.Tozier’s Plymouth Fury was still in the driveway and Mrs.Tozier’s station wagon was still parked in the open garage. 

“I’ll go ask if Richie’s home.” Eddie said, voice trembling. He knew that Richie would do the same for him. He ran up to the front door. He braced himself and knocked three times exactly on the door.

Inside the world’s most awkward lunch was happening. Richie kept glancing at the clock. He had been gone for 50 minutes. Were the others worried? Was Eds worried? He was worried. Realistically, he knew if something were to happen he wouldn’t be of much help even if he was there, but he wanted to at least say he tried. Mike wasn’t having a much better time. His cousin was admittedly a bit annoying. He kept making one joke after another and looked like he wanted to leave. His wet legs and torso had dried, but left a small puddle in their wake, much to Aunt Karen’s already building exasperation. He kept trying to ditch, only for Aunt Maggie to grab him by the arm and sit him back down. Not that Mike could blame him, but still. It’s the principal of the matter. At least the food was good. It was also getting to be a bit unnerving to look up and see  _ himself _ gorging himself on Casserole. He was tempted to run to the phone right then and ask Hopper to look into if the lab had been looking into human cloning before it shut down.

It made the knocks at the door a welcome excuse to bolt up, give a smile, say “I’ll get it.” and run to the front door. Richie looked a bit disappointed, but Mike figured that served him right. 

He strolled to the door and when he opened it, he locked eyes with another boy, much smaller than himself, okay about 5’5. Mike couldn’t tell if he was wet or just sweaty, with his damp hair starting to form curls. Instantly he was tackled into a hug and almost fell on the floor. The kid started speaking a mile a minute.

“Oh my gosh. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried about you, asshole. We all were. Why did you change clothes? Did you really forget what you were doing? I know you have enough ADHD to make an adderall dealer squeal, but I just kept thinking, ‘what if something happened to him.’AND-” The kid, rambled while holding onto him. 

Mike pushed this strange kid off of him and onto the ground, which seemed a little harsh in hindsight, but when you experience everything Mike had, strange people throwing themselves at you and speaking nonsense is kind of a bright vermillion flag. “Get the hell off me, weirdo. I don’t even know who you are!”

The kid looked up at him with extreme surprise. “Wha- It- It’s me! You know me! Eds! Spaghetti Man! All of that other stuff! Wait… Where are your glasses?” 

“Is any of that supposed to mean something to me? I’m super sure I’ve never met you before, and so I would really appreciate it if you  _ never touched me again.”  _ Mike noticed the kid’s lip starting to tremble and his eyes start to water and something in the back of his mind was reminded of Will. His tone softened but remained stern. “Now, please, leave.”

The kid started to tremble and he reached into the fanny pack for a moment and pulled out an old looking inhaler and took a deep inhale in panic. He scrambled back as tears fell from his face. “Why? Why are you saying that? You know me! You know me! Why are you saying that you don’t?”

“Because I don’t!” Mike panicked. He was starting to believe he really did know this kid and maybe HE was the asshole.

“Yo! What's going on! EDDIE!” Richie shouted as he ran into the room with a baseball bat held in a swinging position, when he noticed the weird kid crying on the ground and dropped it, running over to him and giving him a hug. He whispered softly in his ear. “Shshsh Eds I’m right here.”

Now Mike  _ did _ feel like an ass. This must the Eddie that Aunt Maggie mentioned earlier.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Richie demanded. If he had fangs, he would be baring them. He had just started warming up to the guy too! And he just had to go and make his boyfriend cry! “APOLOGIZE!”

“But- he- I-” Mike stuttered.

“ _ APOLOGIZE!” _ Richie screamed again. Mike felt like he was hearing double. The word bounced around his brain and rattled his skull. His eyes saw static, his knees grew weak, and he felt like he was going to throw up and pass out, in that order. When the vomit came, it wasn’t bile, but words being ripped from his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” Mike profusely apologized and everything returned to normal. He didn’t know what overcame him but he didn’t like it.

“MOM, I’M LEAVING!” Richie shouted into the kitchen, ignoring his mom’s protest as he scooped Eddie off of the floor and ushered him to the front yard.

Mike weakly followed him, stopping in the door. He watched as Richie approached a group of 6 other wet kids on bikes. He said something to them that Mike couldn’t quite make out before he hopped on pegs attached to the back of Eddie’s bike, arms wrapped around his shoulders and they rode away. As they rode off Richie turned back to make eye contact with him and flipped the bird at him as they pedalled off. A boy with straight auburn hair and a girl did the same in solidarity without even looking.

_ What the fuck? _

* * *

**_LOSERS’ CLUBHOUSE; DERRY, MAINE: 12:57 PM_ **

When they reached the club house, Eddie had mostly calmed down. They filed down the stairs in single file, deadly quiet until the hatch was closed behind them and the lights were turned on.

“So, my cousin is a complete and utter asshole.” Richie confirmed. He flopped onto the hammock, Eddie taking his natural position at the end of the hammock between his legs.

“That was your cousin?” Eddie asked. “He looked  _ just  _ like you, Chee. Oh my god, I hugged him.” Eddie proceeded to turn the color of a rose.

“How similar can they be?” Stan asked, drying and fluffing his hair with a towel.

“I’m telling you man, it was like body snatchers if the body snatchers forgot to make me blind and gave me a bowl cut.” Richie confirmed Eddie’s story. “And jeez Eds, if he did that over a hug, praise be that you didn’t become overcome by our overwhelming good looks and mistakenly kiss him or you might have been hate crimed. Or he might have been hate crimed by me. Who knows. Just don’t kiss him. Please.

Eddie giggled a little bit, swatting one of Richie’s legs lightly. “Beep-beep, Trashmouth. You know you’re the only one I want to kiss. Also, don’t call me Eds.”

“Even if we look alike? Wait, Eddie, are you saying that you got with me for my  _ personality? _ ” Richie asked, shocked.

“I know, I was shocked too.” Eddie deadpanned.

“We get it, you guys are cute.” Beverly rolled her eyes fondly. “I completely forgot, your cousin was coming over today, Rich.”

“Well, clearly I did to. I also forgot he’s got chronic bitch disease. Otherwise I totally would have gotten the door.” Richie assuaged.

“Ugh, and he’s here until July?” Mike groaned.

“We-We can ju-just avoid him for thir-thirty days.” Bill suggested.

“God, I wish, but Mom said I have to introduce him to you guys tomorrow, during lunch.” Richie ran his hands through his slowly drying hair in frustration.

“And after tomorrow?” Stan asked.

“Never again.” Richie rolled his eyes in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW!!!! You guys were so nice on my last chapter and I hope I didn’t let y’all down! Please remember that I read all of you comments and all of them mean the world to me and encourage me to go on!


	3. Mike's Many Meetings

**_???????, ??:??_ **

Mike opened his eyes and saw nothing. Well, nothing except for the ground, which extended almost infinitely in all directions and was covered in water that was barely high enough to cover the tops of his toes. The area was filled with a low hum that was easy yet hard to ignore, like an A/C unit mixed with tinnitus. Despite the darkness around him, it was a surprisingly well lit space, Mike was able to see his body as well as he could in the afternoon sun. He was still wearing the pajamas he put on before bed.

Mike walked through the darkness, feet dragging through the water. It was all he could do. “This has to be a dream.” Mike spoke to himself. He knew he was asleep and this certainly _felt_ dream-like, but something about it felt very distinctly different from a dream. Mike knew he wasn’t a lucid dreamer like Max often bragged about being, yet he felt totally and completely in control and aware of himself. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and shiver went through his whole body.

He saw the water shift and bubble and he could make out something swimming towards him. Mike tried to run but he was stuck. It felt like when his shoes got stuck in mud at the lake. His feet were simply glued in place. Finally the thing in the water came to a stop in front of him. Mike’s eyes adjusted and saw that it was…. A turtle?

Then things went from strange _to stranger._ The turtle opened its mouth to speak. Yes. Speak. Except when the words came out, Mike didn’t exactly just _hear_ them, it was like he was hearing the turtle with every single one of his other senses. It was like when Richie yelled at him earlier, except instead of making him feel sick, it was like a warm blanket of security being gently wrapped around him.

**_YES YES, VERY INTERESTING. VERY INTERESTING INDEED_ **

“Uh, hello?” Mike awkwardly let out.

**_HELLO MICHAEL WHEELER_ **

**__ **

“How- how do you know my name?” Michael asked the turtle who seemed to somehow be sizing him up.

**_I KNOW MANY THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN EVERY REALITY, ALTHOUGH I DO PREFER TO WATCH OVER THIS ONE. THE INHABITANTS OF THIS ONE ARE SO VERY INTERESTING TO ME. I MYSELF HAVE MANY NAMES MICHAEL WHEELER, BUT FOR NOW YOU MAY CALL ME MY MOST COMMON NAME. THE TURTLE._ **

“Okay… Turtle?” Mike drawled

**_NOW WE ARE ACQUAINTED! EXCELLENT! I HAVE WANTED TO SPEAK WITH YOU FOR A LONG TIME MICHAEL WHEELER._ **

“Then why haven’t you before?” Mike quirked an eyebrow. This dream was very odd.

**_UNLIKE MY LATE BROTHER, I UNFORTUNATELY HAVE NEVER POSSESSED HIS ABILITY TO PUNCH HOLES THROUGH REALITIES AS I PLEASE. HERE THOUGH, IN THIS PLACE, MY BROTHER’S PRESENCE HAS WORN THE VEIL SO THIN OVER THE MILLENIA THAT I CAN COMMUNICATE FREELY._ **

“Ah, so it’s like that, huh. I understand everything now.” Mike said nodding his head, not understanding any of that.

**_VERY CURIOUS HOW EVEN THOUGH YOU HAVE NOT BEEN BLESSED WITH MY GIFT, YOU SEEM TO FIND YOURSELF STUMBLING INTO THE PRESENCE OF MORE SHINERS THAN MOST PEOPLE WILL MEET IN THEIR NATURAL LIFE._ **

_“Your gift?_ ” Mike asked. “Shiners? What does that mean?” Mike asked.

**_ALAS, MICHAEL WHEELER, I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH TIME; OR RATHER, ENOUGH STRENGTH, TO EXPLAIN. BUT JUST KNOW THAT YOU AND SHINERS HAVE TO WORK TOGETHER TO-_ **

And then Mike fell out of bed.

* * *

**_TOZIER HOUSE; DERRY, MAINE, 9:00 AM_ **

He hit the ground head first, clutching his pillow in a hug against his chest, feet twisted in the several mis-matched blankets that Maggie and Went had provided for him. He saw that Richie wasn’t in his bed, but he clearly had been earlier judging by the haphazard state of the sheets and comforter. Mike had no idea when he had come home; after the incident Mike had turned in early five hours later, exhausted from the busses and whatever that whole confrontation with Richie had been. Before he could continue to get his bearings, Aunt Maggie burst into the room. She wore scrubs and white keds with minimal makeup and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. 

“Are you okay? I heard a thud.” She asked, concern evident on her face.

“Yeah. I just rolled over too much. I'm used to a bigger bed.” Mike joked, still sweating and not feeling very well rested for what he knew had to have been well over eight hours of sleep.

“Alright… If you say so…” Maggie looked a little unsure. She must have been better at picking up lies than Mom, Mike thought; although if she knew something was up she said nothing. “I just came up to wake you up before I leave to go to work at the hospital. Richie knows my number if anything goes wrong, if he forgets, get to the Uris’s house and tell Andrea.”

“The who?” Mike asked, pushing himself off of the floor and semi-righting his messed up bedding

“Oh, Richie will introduce you to all of his friends today, don’t worry.” She assured before she turned around and left in a hurry without another word

Mike was not assured. Mike had yet to really meet any of Richie’s friends but his few interactions had involved minor, accidental assault and getting flipped off. Mike wasn’t overly fond of Richie for sure but he would at least like to be even with him. 

Mike went downstairs to get some breakfast. He saw Richie, hunched over a bowl of cereal like a slobbering animal on the living room couch and watching early morning cartoons. A set of juice boxes were haphazardly littered at his feet. Richie tore is eyes away from the tv to see who came down the stairs. Richie glared and rolled his eyes and went back to watching TV and eating fruity pebbles, albeit more aggressively somehow. Mike awkwardly plopped down next to him. Richie was refusing to look at him, staring straight ahead at the TV. Mike was sure that contempt would be better than the radio silence. Mikes mouth opened and closed several times like a gaping fish, trying to find the words to??? Apologize? Say good morning? Ask him if he’s been having any weird dreams?

It was Richie who broke the silence, which was surprising given the cold shoulder he’d been sporting yet it really shouldn’t’ve been given how much Mike knew he liked to talk. His tone was cold and terse. “Mom says that I have to introduce you to my friends. Get dressed, we’re leaving in 45 minutes.” He said before picking himself up off the couch and trying to leave.

Mike finally stood up and said something. “Hey, Richie, I’m really sorry about-” He started before Richie cut him off.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, am I? When we see him I want you to apologize to Eds again and you better mean it; because if you hurt him again or any of my friends, I will shave off your Beatles haircut.” Richie frowned as he stomped back up to get dressed.

Well _shit._

* * *

**_The Edge of Derry, 10:15 am_ **

The two rode up into the fringe of the woods. Mike had been saddled with Richie’s bike from last summer, before he hit his growth spurt. Unfortunately, being near identical meant they were also near identical in height. Mike’s spine hurt as he leaned over the handlebars and his knees were going to get blisters at the rate that they kept bumping and rubbing the black grips of the handles.

The group that Mike saw Richie ride off with yesterday. He could see them more clearly now. Of course he knew who Eddie was, there was also a chubby kid, a curly haired boy in a yarmulke, a red haired girl that reminded him vaguely of Max, a black kid, and the auburn haired boy who flipped him off. They were somehow playing a game of 6-way rock paper scissors. When the two rode up, the crunch of their bikes on the dirt alerted them to their presence. Almost all of them did a double take, with the exception of Eddie who just shuffled to the back of the group, awkwardly holding himself.

“Wuh-Woah. Y-You wer-weren’t kidding ab-bout you g-guys looking al-alike.” Bill remarked in shock.

“Uncanny.” Was all Ben could say.

“Alright, Mike-” Richie coughed and put on a voice like a circus ringleader announcing the next act. “Here we have assembled the _finest_ collection o’ freaks n’ geeks this side o’ the Kenduskeag. First up, we have the fearless leader with one helluva voice, Big Bill!” He gestured wildly to Bill who rolled his eyes.

Bill stuck out his hand and when Mike took it, he squeezed it uncomfortably tight.

“Next up we have the living conundrum, the slutty virgin herself, Beverly!” Richie blew her a kiss and she gave a grand bow. “Now, from the heart of africa, deep in the bowls of homeschooling, the only black person most people in this town have ever seen before, Michaelllll Hanlon!” 

The two Mikes gave each other timid waves.

“Some say he’s half bird-half man, but he’s definitely all neuroses give it up for Stan ‘the Man’ Urissss.” Richie pointed to the Jewish kid, who gave Mike a withering glare. “Next up is a doozy folks. Locked from public eye for 14 years, the medical marvel, the boy with a million diseases and allergies himself, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie waltz over to Eddie and wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pinching his cheek. Normally, Eddie would protest all that, but all he could do was stare mortified at Mike and lean into Richie instinctually and try to make himself smaller. Mike truly felt like a douchebag. Finally Richie nodded his head to Ben.

“That’s Ben, he’s just fat.”

“Hey!”

“AND TOGETHER, WE ARE THE… _drum roll please.”_ Richie motioned to the group. Stan rolled his eyes and picked the sticks that most definitely weren’t poison ivy and rhythmically tapped them against a large stump. “THE LOSERS’ CLUB! Trademark pending.”

“Oh um cool. So what are we, uh, doing today?” Mike asked. “If you guys want to go to the arcade, I have like $48.75 in quarters in my suitcase.” He really didn’t want to share any of his hard earned cash, but he was really getting the vibe that he needed to offer up a peace offering to this group or they would beat his ass in the woods and leave his body in the Kenduskeag. 

Richie looked semi-tempted to take him up on the offer but Bill opened his mouth first. “Actually, Wheeler, w-we all-already have puh-plans for t-today. If, y’know, yuh-you ar-aren’t t-to chick-chicken that is of course.”

“What?! I’m totally not a chicken!” Mike was suddenly feeling like a petulant 12 year old again or like Marty McFly, but he didn’t fight two different demo-shits to be called a coward.

Bill got a wicked smile. “Okay then, Wuh-Wheeler. Ho-Hope you can swuh-swim.” He said as he got on his bike.

Mike felt his throat tighten. What did he get himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for the support on the last chapter! I can believe how quickly so many people have read this lil passion project! This is a little short but I hap you guys get a kick out of it! And remember! I read every comment and they encourage me to keep going! So have at it! Also subscribe so you don't miss the next update!


	4. The water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to the quarry for some fun :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood, Body Horror, Brief descriptions of drowning

**_?????????????; August ?, 1986, ??:??_ **

Golden eyes opened to nothingness. It extends Its arms to the sky (or rather where It thinks the sky should be.) and sees clearly two long pedipalps reach before Its eyes. 

_ Well this won’t do at all.  _ It thinks and It concentrates on Its scuttly form before switching its thoughts to something more familiarly bipedal and less encumbered. The long spindly spiders’ legs of Its true form morph, stretch and shrink, exoskeleton becomes bone and is wrapped by meat and cakey, pale flesh, which is in turn enveloped by candy cane striped cloth. From their nubby tipped wrists two gloves hands blow and expand outwards like silk balloon animals.

Organs pop out of places for a moment as the hard critin that kept them in dissolves into a rib cage before transforming into something more usable in this new form It has chosen. The lungs resection themselves from 2 dozen folds to 2 and the liver slinks away from the heart. Finally they move themselves like flexing muscles back into the torso cavity and are sealed over by white flesh and off-white satin.

The face makes several terrible clicking noises as the facial plates crack and rearrange themselves into something that could only by the most modest estimates be called human and pincers retract themselves into the maw that It has made for a mouth to become uncountable numbers worth of equally sharp and dangerous teeth. Eight eyes smash into each other like a child abusing play doh to become two and golden red hair erupts from either side of a disproportionately distended forehead. 

The creature twists Its mangledly wrought body straight and rises to Its feet and surveys the land around It. It lets out a low, chuckle which devolves into unhinged manically cold cackling that sounds more like screaming than anything that could resemble human joy.

_ “I can work with _ **_this_ ** _ ” _

* * *

**_DERRY GRANITE QUARRY; DERRY, MAINE, 10:20 AM_ **

The gang of teenagers rolled to a stop on top of a stone face cliff. Mike was feeling very uneasy, images of pocket knives being shoved into his friend’s mouth entered his mind and he knew for sure that El wasn’t around to save him this time.

Mike hopped off the bike to turn to them and ask what was going on. His face went red at the sight of the group stripping down to their under clothes. “Woah! What are you guys doing!” He yelped in surprise, turning away, red faced, when his eyes accidentally drifted over to Beverly pulling her sundress over her head.

Richie folded his glasses and stumbled over to Michael. “Well golly, cuz, we’s goin’ a swimmin’.” he said in a simple southern accent.

“Down- down there?” Michael asked nervously, peering over the edge of the quarry at the dark water below, lapping at the rocks in an almost menacing fashion. “So, uh how- how are we getting down there? Is there a ladder or is there a slope that we climb down orrr-”

Bill clapped his hand down on Michael’s shoulder. “We’re jumping. It’s only, oh, 35 feet down? Perfectly safe. We’ve all done it like a million times.”

Michael gulped. Shit. He knew this would be the case. Him and cliff diving were not exactly on great terms right now. “I don’t have a suit!” He squawked indignantly.

A chorus of “So?” and “And?” ‘s filled the air from behind them from the rest of the Losers, who were still stripping to their skivvies. He locked eyes with Stan, who rolled his khaki shorts off with a quirked eyebrow in almost a callout or as if to make a point. Then the red haired girl burst past him and headlong off of the side of the cliff. Michael watched with abject horror as she landed feet first in the cold water.

“I’m not getting shown up by a girl!” Richie screamed as he took off from his cousin and his leader and did a cannonball over the edge.

Eddie finished applying the sunscreen he’d brought with him and threw his fanny pack aside and ran after Richie, “You forgot your sunblock, you idiot! You're gonna get melanoma!”

“Do you have to jump?” Michael asked nervously.

“Well, no…” Mike Hanlon said placatingly as he approached the edge, preparing to take a swan dive. “You could always sit out.”

“Or go home.” Stan tacked on dryly, before jack-knifing in.

Michael briefly considered this. No shame in surrender, just say that you would rather sit out! Leave Richie and his way too comfortable friends to their devices and check out the town! But then Bill just had to add, “Y’know, if you’re a chicken!”

Michael took these as fighting words. He struggled and pulled his tee shirt off over his head and threw it to the grass. Propriety be damned! Bill watched with wide eyes as Michael threw his body awkwardly over the edge; panic gripping Michael’s heart as he fell face first towards the water below and his eyes squeezed closed as his nose grew to be only inches from the surface. Wind rushed past him as he fell seemingly quicker and quicker and his ears felt like wind tunnels. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he would hit the water any second. Finally he collided with the water’s surface and his skin stung as his face hit the lake while the rest of his body slammed in ungracefully after. The world seemed stock still as he slipped further and further beneath the dark waves.

The harsh sting numbed to a dull ache as his senses were bombarded by the sudden emcompacement of cold lake water. Mike opened his eyes, ignoring the slight sting as he did so. He could tell he had landed far down in the water, about 10 feet or so. He saw the sun breaking through the surface of the quarry water with the silhouettes of the other kids’ bodies looking like black shadows against the golden green of this view of the sky. The calm of the underwater scene was disrupted with a burst of bubbles where Bill landed, not sinking quite as deep as him with impact. He could see Bill’s silhouette rise to the top and the burning in Mike’s lungs told him it was time to do the same. He tried to kick upwards but he couldn’t budge.

Terror set in quickly. Mike tried to kick again but something was firmly wrapped around his ankle and felt like somehow the thing clinging onto him from below was still taking shape and solidifying. Mike couldn’t help but wonder if it was just his imagination when the anchor started to feel more and more like fingers, grasping on and keeping him under.

Mike tried to kick at the hand but that only strengthened its sick resolve and it tightened its grip and pulled him further and really only served to bruise his ankle. The burn in Mike’s lungs turned into a wildfire and he had to keep his mouth shut to not gasp for non-existent air. His head was growing lighter and his eyes would have been watering if he were on land.

Michael was pulled from his panicked state as he felt several pairs of hands grabbing at him from above, pulling him now towards the surface. He looked up to see Bill, Stan and Mike holding onto his arms and shoulders with Richie wrapping his arms around his torso like a tag team of lifeguards. Finally, Michael began to ascend upwards towards the sweet surface, but before the anchor fully loosened it seemed to try to tighten just a little bit more.

Mike screamed underwater as something, or rather  _ several  _ sharp  _ somethings _ , dug into the meat of his calf and tore the skin as he was ripped away from it. Mike looked down to finally see what had held him down. All he saw before he resurfaced was a crooked line, almost resembling a crack in drywall, made of glowing light that got smaller before seemingly vanishing.

When Michael resurfaced, it was with a gasp and a cough full of water. The four boys dragged his still flailing body to the rocky embankment that made up the quarry shore. Ben, Beverly, and Eddie paddle over to the stone beach as well.

“Damn, Cuz! Ya should have told me that you didn’t know how to swim!” Richie exacerbated. 

“I-“ Michael coughed “I know how to swim Richie.”

“You could have fooled me.” Mike Hanlon quirked an eyebrow.

“Y-You we-were dow-down there fuh-for half a meh-minute.” Bill explained, looking quite guilty for having taunted him to have jumped in the first place.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to give you mouth to mouth.” Riches sighed a fake (or was it?) sigh of relief. “Man, Mom and Dad would have killed me if you kicked the bucket out here.”

Finally the rest of the Losers caught up with them and pulled themselves out of the water. When they approached, Beverly let out a squealing gasp of shock and Eddie just yelled “HOLY SHIT BALLS, YOUR LEG!”

Michael looked down and winced. His leg had four long scratches down his lower calf, looking like his leg had been mauled by a bear. Finally the pain really set in and Mike let out a- totally manly- scream. 

“M-Michael wh-what happened? Is th-this why y-you c-couldn’t get out?” Bill asked.

“Yeah.” Mike gasped out in agony. It was all he could think to say.

“What happened down there?” Stan asked. “When we dove down to get you, it looked like you were trying to…  _ get away _ from something. You looked really panicked… almost  _ afraid _ .” 

Something about Stan and his tone; or maybe it was his weird choice of words, Michael couldn’t really tell, made a look of dread pass between the Losers. No not dread. Something stronger than dread.

Fear

Mike, however, decided that the pain took priority over whatever was going on with his cousin’s weird friends. He ran through some answer scenarios in his head. There was no way in h-e-double hockey sticks he was going to say that he thought that there was a hand at the bottom of the lake grabbing vulnerable teen boys in their underwear or glowing cracks that may or may not have been a hallucination caused by a lack of oxygen or refracted light. 

“I- uh- I saw a turtle when I jumped in and so I tried to chase it to the bottom and my leg got stuck in some rocks while I was looking for it.” Michael lied between his teeth. Not his best explanation but it would have to do.

It seemed to work, at least a little bit, because the Losers all let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. Still, though, the look of wariness in their eyes didn’t fully fade.

Mike tried to shift his body but pain shot through his entire leg as he accidentally moved it. He winced when he looked down and saw blood flowing from the leg and onto the rocks. “Shit!” He hissed.

Most of the group looked pale as ghosts as their attention was drawn back to Mike’s leg. 

“Ohhh my God, guys, this is- this is bad! Like,  _ bad bad _ .” Eddie started wheezing. “Oh fuck what if he gets pneumonia from this shitty lake water and we have to amputate it!? I can’t amputate a leg, guys!”

“Eds- I- calm down.” Richie left Michael’s side to put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and literally shake sense into him. “ _ Breathe. _ Remember Eddie, not every little wrong with someone ends in people dying.”

“Well I would say this is more than a li- wait did you say his leg would get pneumonia?” Stan asked dumbfounded.

Richie gave Stan a full, cold glare. ”It's not that stupid Stan, -although that was pretty dumb spaghetti man- just... This guy can't just die, alright? Now what do we do? The thing with this type of injury is that we really just need to find him some bandages and neosporin and then- Pip pip cheerio, right as rain!”

“Way-Wait!” Bill interjected. “Wuh-where are we evuh-ven g-going to g-get bandages?”

“Hey, Eddie, don't you still have the leftover gauze that you used on Ben in your fanny pack?” Beverly asked.

Eddie snapped his fingers “Holy shit I forgot about that, let me think.” He then pressed his fingers to his temples in a way that reminded the group of Professor X. “It’s in the very bottom back right corner of my black fanny pack, on top of Richie’s pants on the left side of the big rock 12 feet before the edge of the cliff where we jumped.”

“That was- uh…” Mike Hanlon trailed off. “Oddly specific.”

“I just tried to imagine the last place I had it. It was simple.” Eddie brushed off the remark.

“I-It duh-doesn’t matter, we juh-just need to g-get Mike W. back up the c- cliff so we c-can pah-patch him up.” Bill declared authoritatively.

“Okay, good idea in theory…” Richie’s cousin said from the ground, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “But how the hell am I supposed to not bleed out on the way there?”

“I once saw on a nature documentary that this guy made a splint out of leaves and sticks and shit!” Richie boldly suggested.

“Splints are for sprains and breaks, idiot.” Stan argued, putting that first aid merit badge to use.

“Besides all of these leaves probably have dirt and bugs and poison ivy and shit like that on them!” Eddie backed Stan up, his still lingering hypochondria overtaking his need to back up his boyfriend “What if it infects the wound?”

Finally Ben stepped up to plate. “Guys we can just use my shirt to wrap it until we can replace it with real bandages.”

Michael then realized that Ben had been the only one to keep his shirt on the whole time, which he now found rather odd. Dustin and Will sometimes wore their shirts for as long as they could to the pool but always took them off before actually jumping in. (Although right now he wasn’t complaining.) Ben reached for the bottom hem of his shirt and lifted up before Beverly gripped his hand and looked him seriously in the eyes.

“Ben, are you sure that you… it’s just I- I don’t want you to get upset.” She said solemnly.

Ben smiles weakly “I’ll be fine as long as I don’t have to think about it and no one mentions it.”

Mike had no idea what they were talking about until Ben pulled the shirt off and right above his right hip bone was a gnarly looking scar in the shape of the letter H. Mike was going to ask about it but then he remembered what Ben said and figured that the scar was probably what the whole shirt thing was about. Maybe he could ask one of the other’s later. Michael Hanlon propped his leg up while Eddie wrapped the shirt tightly around the cuts and then the group helped Mike to his feet. Mike realized quickly that he wasn’t the only one staring at Ben’s scar. He looked over to see Stan starting to look green at the sight and he kept touching the sides of his own face. Mike focused a little bit and saw that the whole circumference of Stan’s face was covered in several small scattered deep looking scars, each about an inch long, up and down his cheekbones and chin and in his hairline. How had he not noticed those before?

Then another question entered Mike’s mind as they helped him hobble up the hill.

‘What the hell happened to them?’

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the wait but with all of the craziness it took a while to get some time to write. Well when life give you corona!  
> If you want more be sure to leave comments kudos and SUBSCRIBE!  
> Remember, I am a weak man who thrives on validations...  
> ALSO! For any old readers who came from their subscription notification! I recently added an illustration to chapter 3!

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to leave a comment with your feelings, thoughts, and critiques; leave kudos: and subscribe!!!!
> 
> ALSO CHECK OUT MY OTHER IT FICS: THE FRIEND TRAP & THAT'S SUPER, MAN
> 
> If you have any questions or just wanna chat, hmu on my Tumblr @space-is-out-there!


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